That night robbed me, and I don’t want to think about it. The slapping, the alcohol in my system, me lying on the cold floor and not being able to fight because I was too weak. It wasn’t my fault, at least that’s what my therapist told me, yet I can’t help but blame myself because maybe I should have never gone out.

A lump forms in my chest, and I swallow hard. If only I could go back in time and change what happened, I would’ve never gone to that party. Maybe, just maybe, I wouldn’t have to struggle every day.

As soon as my lunch break is over, I get Gunner’s notes ready for a conference call.

* * *

I sit in the chair in front of Gunner’s desk. Yeah, I’m not ever sitting on his couch again until it’s drenched in bleach and sprayed down with holy water. With an iPad in my hand, I clean out his emails and sort out his files while he sits at his desk and types a proposal to a shareholder.

The air conditioner pumps out cool air, making my skin break out in a million goosebumps like a rash.

We haven’t really talked much about anything but work for the last three weeks because our work hours have been super crazy since I told him about me living in foster care, that I was an orphan. So I don’t know what he thinks about it. It’s hard to open up to other people. But Gunner radiates a vibe where you can talk to him without judgment.

“You want to play pool once we leave here?” he asks.

Keeping my eyes trained on the screen, I feel his beautiful eyes on me. “No offense, Wolf, but now that I can afford Netflix I’d rather catch up on The Office,” I say as I hit the delete button on a file on the screen.

“You watch The Office?”

I tear my eyes from the screen and stare at his face, my cheeks flushed. He has a wolfish look to him, despite having bags under his eyes. Sprouts of auburn hair decorate his chin. I actually prefer men with beards. “Do you have a hearing problem? I just said that.”

Ignoring my snide comment, he says, “You didn’t peg me as a person who likes comedy shows.”

“You didn’t peg me as Mr. Save-a-Damsel-in-Distress, yet here we are.” I stand from the black chair and tuck the iPad under my arm. “You need anything else?”

He leans back in his executive chair and uncuffs his designer cufflinks, loosens his brown tie. “Netflix and chill?” His voice is husky.